Born In Sin Read online

  Her red curls fanned out on either side of her face, reminding him of some beautiful fey creature who had stumbled upon him and claimed him with her magic. And she felt so good surrounding him. Surely there was no better pleasure than her warmth.

  She ran her hands over his chest, up his arms and brushed them through his hair.

  He lowered himself to her and gathered her into his arms. Then, slowly, very slowly, he began to gently rock himself between her thighs.

  Callie sighed in pleasure at the feel of him so deep, hard and strong inside her. How could she have forgotten this? She wrapped her arms around him and listened to his rapid breathing as he moved.

  Arching her back to draw him in even deeper, she kissed his uninjured shoulder and inhaled the scent of him. He quickened his thrusts, sliding himself in and out of her, deeper and deeper. Her head spun from the sensations of his skin on hers, of his breath against her neck.

  She breathed his name as she clung to him and met him stroke for stroke. Her body felt out of control. She was hot and tingly. And just as she was sure she would die from the pleasure of him, her body erupted into an ecstasy so intense that she screamed from it.

  Sin ground his teeth at the sensation of her body gripping his while he kissed her deeply. Holding her tighter, he felt his own body release. With one last forceful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her and felt the waves of pleasure rippling through him as he gave her a part of him he'd never given another single soul.

  He lay completely still, holding her for what seemed an eternity, and yet it seemed no time at all.

  "Is it always like that?" she asked, her voice awed.

  Sin drew a ragged breath as he drifted down from heaven, back into his body. "I don't know."

  He tensed as soon as the words left his lips.

  She looked at him curiously. "Don't know or you won't tell me?"

  He started to cover the slip with a lie, and yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. Nay, he wouldn't lie to her. Not after she had given so much.

  Embarrassed, he looked away. "I've never been with a woman before tonight."

  Callie was shocked by his confession. How could that be? She'd heard numerous rumors of his sexual conquests from other women in London.

  Of course, she'd also heard that he ate small children every morn, and had horns that sprouted from his forehead whenever he neared a church.

  "What of our wedding night?" she asked.

  "You passed out before we finished."

  "But the blood that was on me and in my bed—where did it come from?"

  "It was mine. I didn't think you'd want to suffer the humiliation of Henry's physicians examining you and finding you virgin, so I opened up one of the cuts on my arms and used the blood to shield you."

  The full depth of his loneliness slammed into her. Dear saints, he had never been intimate even on the most basic level with another person.

  It was unheard of for a man of his stature and prowess to remain untouched.

  "I can't believe you haven't—"

  "What kind of craven bastard do you think I am?" he asked, his eyes angry. "After all I have been through in my life, think you I would ever take a chance on leaving behind a baby to a woman who would hate it because of my actions? I would sooner have died celibate than learn a child of mine was in this world suffering because I was a selfish ass who couldn't control myself."

  And yet he had taken a chance with her. After tonight, it was quite possible that she could have his child inside her. Which meant that he trusted her, at least on some level.

  Touched by his words, she pulled him into her arms.

  Sin held her close and hoped in his heart that he was sterile. He hoped there would be no issue from this night. He couldn't stand the thought of a child being born to the hardship and heartaches of this world.

  He never should have touched her. It was wrong and he wished the arrow that afternoon had pierced his heart. He should have let her family defeat him and returned to England.

  He should have done anything other than make love to her.

  And yet even as these thoughts whirled through his mind, he looked into her angelic face and saw what he had waited a lifetime for.

  All he had to do was find the courage to take it.

  To his chagrin, he who had stood strong and alone all his life was now a coward who was terrified of a mere woman. Because she did scare him. She and these unknown feelings inside him. When he looked at her, all those long-buried dreams surfaced and made him wish for things he had no right to wish for. Home. Family… love.

  Be grateful for what you have, boy. All bastards like you are fit for is wiping the asses of your betters. Harold's angry voice tore through him.

  Unable to breathe, he reluctantly withdrew from her, got up and dressed.

  "Sin?"

  The sound of her voice sliced through him. He paused at the door, torn between the need inside him to return to bed and take her into his arms and hold her forever, and the fear of her eventual rejection that made him want to bolt like a frightened animal.

  For the first time in his life, he chose retreat. "I'll be back in a minute."

  With no direction, Sin headed down to the great hall, where he found his brother Ewan still sitting at the table, drinking ale alone.

  "Why are you still awake?" Sin asked as he took the vacant seat next to his brother.

  Ewan drained the cup and poured more. "I'm not dead with exhaustion yet. You?"

  "Same."

  Sin grabbed a cup and poured it full.

  Ewan grunted at him as Sin downed the contents in one gulp. "What a pair we make, eh?"

  Sin poured another goblet full. "How so?"

  "Both of us tormented by our pasts."

  Sin fell silent as more memories surged. He knew the guilt and pain of his brother. Knew how much the past wore on Ewan's battered conscience. "Thinking of Kieran tonight?"

  Ewan nodded. "Every night. His face haunts me each time I try to sleep."

  "Aye, I well understand. I see the men I've killed." He took another swig of ale. "I never knew most of their names."

  "That would be easier than knowing you killed your own brother."

  Sin pushed his chair back so that he could level a glare at Ewan. "Kieran killed himself."

  "Aye, over what I did to him."

  "It's still not your fault." Ewan had been nothing more than the pawn of a beautiful woman who had possessed no heart. Kieran had made his own decision and poor Ewan had been left behind to suffer for both their actions.

  Sin felt for him and would give anything to alleviate Ewan's pain. But he doubted if there was enough time in infinity to ease his brother's heart.

  Ewan started to pour more ale, then tossed the goblet over his shoulder and drank from the pitcher instead. "Damned cups are never large enough," he muttered. He tilted his head to look at Sin. "So, why are you here, when you have such a beautiful bride warming your bed?"

  That was an easy question to answer. "Because I'm a hypocritical fool."

  "Well, at least you know it."

  Sin smiled wryly. "You know, I'm thinking tonight that I owe Braden an apology."

  "For what?"

  "Words I said to him while we were in MacDouglas territory with Maggie. I'm finding it much easier to give advice than to live it."

  Ewan frowned. "Remember, brother, that I am drunk and none of that made a bit of sense to my fogged mind."

  Sin took a deep breath. "I told Braden that he should take a chance with Maggie and find out if they were meant to be together. Now I find myself unable to live up to those words."

  "You want to take a chance with Maggie?"

  Sin tossed a small loaf of bread at his brother. "Why don't you go to bed and sleep it off?"

  "I will eventually. Not drunk enough yet."

  Sin arched a brow at that. The entire time he'd stayed in Scotland with his brothers while he healed his burn wounds, he'd noted how often Ewan stayed up well int
o the night, drinking alone. "Tell me, does Lochlan know how much you drink?"

  "No one knows. Not even me."

  Sin grabbed Ewan's arm before his brother could take another drink. "Maybe you should refrain some."

  Ewan growled and shrugged his hold off. "Since you can't live by your own advice, then don't try to be giving it to me."

  Sin shook his head as Ewan finished off the entire pitcher, then got up to find more.

  Ewan had believed Isobail ingen Kaid had loved him. First he had fought Kieran to possess her, even to the point where they had almost killed each other over her, then Ewan had defied their father and brothers to run away and marry her.

  Before Ewan could marry her, she'd run off with another man and left him all alone in northern England. Heartbroken, Ewan had returned home to find his family mourning the death of Kieran, who had committed suicide the day Ewan had left with Isobail.

  The double blow had ruined Ewan.

  Ewan had taken that chance for happiness and he had ended up embittered and alone, living in a cave in the hills with no one to care or notice how much ale he consumed.

  Sometimes the chance for happiness wasn't worth taking.

  Sin stared at his own cup. He could count his pleasant memories on the fingers of one hand. Happiness had always been beyond his reach.

  He was a fool to think otherwise.

  His heart heavy, he knew he couldn't keep Caledonia for his own. Come the morrow, he would concentrate on finding the rebels and then he would leave her.

  Surely the pope would grant her an annulment. The man hated him with enough venom to gladly dissolve a marriage that should never have been.

  Aye, he would set her free. It was the only decent thing for an indecent man to do.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  By midmorning of the next day, Sin was painfully aware of the fact that this might be the first time in his life he would actually fail his mission. None of Callie's people would speak to him. The instant he approached, they stubbornly set their jaws and hastened away.

  Not that they were the first to treat him that way. But if he were to find the ones responsible for the attacks, he would need them to at least open their mouths in his presence.

  He sat in the hall with his brothers and Simon, eating while he told them of his morning misadventure.

  "Well," Braden said, "if you'd take to wearing Scot's clothes it would help. It's hard to warm up to a cold English knight."

  Lochlan froze at his youngest brother's thoughtless words. Unlike Ewan and Braden, he knew the reason Sin disdained Scots attire. In his mind, he saw his father returning from the Kilgarigon fair with matching plaid cloth for him and his sons.

  Braden had still been in swaddling. Their mother had wrapped the infant up in a portion of green and black plaid, while he, Kieran and Ewan had proudly donned plaids that matched their father's.

  "There's my boys," his father had announced proudly as he looked them over and ruffled their hair.

  Lochlan had been smiling until he caught sight of Sin in a corner. In their excitement, they had forgotten all about him, and as he typically did, Sin had withdrawn into the shadows, where he stood sullenly with his arms crossed over his chest.

  Lochlan would never forget the look on his older brother's face as Sin watched them. Sin's young eyes had been filled with envy and pain.

  Lochlan had turned to their father. "Da? Where is Sin's plaid?"

  His father had ignored the question and continued to play with Ewan and Kieran.

  His young mother had not been so kind. "Plaid cloth is for people of true Scots blood, Lochlan. They are not for half-blooded Sassenachs."

  If he lived forever, Lochlan would never understand his mother's cruelty toward Sin. Nor his father's complete lack of regard.

  He had found Sin later that day, alone in their room. Sin had been sitting in the middle of the floor with his arm cut open while he let blood trail from the wound into a bowl.

  Horrified, Lochlan had run to him and covered the wound with a cloth to stop the bleeding. "What are you doing?" he'd asked.

  "I'm trying to get rid of the English blood in me, but it doesn't look any different than yours." Sin's eyes had been hollow and empty. "How can I make it go away when I can't find the difference?"

  Lochlan had bandaged Sin's arm, and they had never again spoken of that moment. But it had haunted Lochlan ever since.

  Now Lochlan looked to Sin, who sat beside Simon. In truth, Sin's strength awed him.

  "I'll not ever put another plaid on my body," Sin said to Braden.

  "I'll do it," Simon volunteered cheerfully while he ate. "What the hell? I even have the red hair for it."

  Lochlan smiled, even though he still ached with the pain of his memory. "I think we need to adopt Simon as an official MacAllister. What say you, brothers?"

  Braden nodded. "I think he fits right in. Ewan?"

  "I would nod, but my head hurts too much for it."

  Sin snorted. "Given how much ale you consumed last night, I'm amazed you can even sit upright."

  "How much did you drink last night?" Lochlan asked, suddenly concerned.

  "Somewhere between too much and not enough."

  Lochlan rolled his eyes, wishing he knew what to do to return Ewan to the man he'd been before Isobail had changed him.

  "Back to the rebels," Lochlan said, trying to focus on an issue he could actually help with. "If they're no longer raiding Henry's people, why bother?"

  Sin looked at him drolly. "Because they could start again at any time."

  Suddenly a cry of alarm rang out.

  The men ran for the door, with Ewan cursing every step due to his head. Braden swung the door wide to show an English messenger entering the bailey on the back of a brown stallion.

  Sin shook his head at the sight. By the faces of the Scots around the herald, it was obvious he was the only person they welcomed less than they had him.

  As soon as the man spotted Sin and Simon, he relaxed a degree. If Sin hadn't been concerned about what brought the man into their midst, the gesture would have amused him, since it was the first time in his memory that anyone had actually been relieved by his presence.

  The herald dismounted and brought a sealed parchment to him. "From my Lord Ranulf, who holds the lands of Oxley."

  Sin popped the seal and read the message. His vision turned dark with every word he read. "Did he send word to Henry?"

  "Aye, milord. And the king sent word that he will be headed this way to inspect the damage himself."

  "What is it?" Lochlan asked.

  Sin looked up to see his wife approaching them from the direction of the kitchens. He waited until she stood before him before he answered Lochlan's question. "It appears a group of MacNeelys raided Oxley's lands. He lost almost a score of cows and his village was burned to the ground. His people lost all their harvesting and now will be hard-pressed to make it through the winter." He gave Callie a hard stare to make her realize the exact gravity of the situation. "On a nearby tree they found a note saying: English be gone from Scots soil. And it was signed, The MacNeely."

  Callie's face paled. "Aster didn't do that. He would never condone such."

  "I know," Sin said sincerely, folding the message back up. "He knows better than to bring down the wrath of Henry on his head."

  He looked to the messenger. "Tell your lord I shall personally see to the matter and find the man who did this."

  The herald nodded.

  "What do you intend to do?" Callie asked.

  "I want you to round up every male in your clan over the age of ten-and-four and have them here by day's end. I want to have a word with them."

  He wouldn't have thought it possible, but she actually paled even more. "I think that would be most unwise. They might attack you."

  Lochlan stiffened. "They attack my brother and they attack us. You let them know that. I doubt there's a man born in your clan who wants
to go to war with the MacAllisters."

  She nodded. "I will do it."

  Sin watched as his wife left to do his bidding. She wore her hair plaited today. Even so, tendrils of it had escaped the tight braids and were curling in a becoming fashion all around her face. As typical, she wore her father's plaid and made quite an appealing sight as she walked across the yard.

  And with every step she took that swayed her hips, he felt himself growing harder and harder for her.

  "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Lochlan asked.

  "Like the first day of spring after a long, harsh winter." The words were out before Sin realized it.

  Four pairs of eyes turned to him in astonishment.

  "Poetry?" Ewan burst out laughing.

  Sin shoved him.

  Still, his brothers laughed. "Methinks Sin is smitten," Braden teased. "Lochlan, you'd best fetch a priest and exorcise him."

  Sin growled at him. "He'd best fetch a priest to perform Last Rites for you before I kill you."

  Braden laughed even harder.

  "Oh, come now," Simon said to them. "Let's be kind to poor Sin."

  "Thank you, Simon."

  "After all, I think 'tis sweet."

  Sin groaned as they continued to harass him.

  "Sweet!" Lochlan howled. "Oh, aye, like a ferocious little lion cub."

  Sin snorted. "I don't want to hear it from a man who parades himself around in a skirt."

  His three brothers stiffened.

  "Beg pardon?" Ewan asked.

  "You heard me." Sin looked to Simon and smiled devilishly. "Now, I ask you, who is sweeter? The man in breeches or the geldings in skirts?"

  They lunged for him.

  Sin ducked and rolled out from under their feet.

  "He's mine!" Ewan snarled.

  Sin ran before they could catch him.

  Callie looked up as her husband entered the stable behind her. He was running so fast, she barely recognized him. Two seconds after he entered the stable, she saw why.

  His brothers and Simon were hot on his heels like a group of children playing chase.

  "What is this?" she asked.

  Sin ran behind her and put her between him and his brothers. " 'Tis nothing," he said, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably.